A Thousand Twitterpated Twits
by Twisted Biscuit
Summary: Despite of what logic may lead you to believe: there's a Veela at Hogwarts. For one week this vision of loveliness shall ensnare every male at Hogwarts with her feminine wiles or, um, something. Who is this enchantress? Minerva McGonagall.
1. Poor, Misguided Fool

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns Harry Potter. (shock, awe) Yes, I know! Hard to believe isn't it? Also, this piece is a parody.

**Dedication:** This is for **I Kiss Dementors a.k.a. Lady Myotismon **who inspired the idea.

* * *

-

**The Facts:**

Veela, as anyone will tell you, are curious creatures. They are simultaneously one of the most beautiful and one of the most hideous creatures on Earth. They can ensnare men with their song and beguile the world with their dance… It is rare for a Veela to mate with a human, but it happens from time to time. Sometimes this occurs when they find a man who is worthy of their affections, but more often when a man they have enraptured becomes so incredibly frustrated that they resort to desperate measures to win the object of their affections.

The fruit of such unions are, invariably, troubled children.

They have the thoughts, the feelings, and the desires of a normal human being, but at the same time they are burdened with the fickleness and instability of the Veela. These children are often looked upon as great beauties by human standards, and if female they invariably attract even more attention than a true Veela, for the threat they pose to a man's senses is seen as less dire. Human males therefore believe, mistakenly, that they have more control over themselves. That they are "safer". Those poor misguided fools.

The children of Humans and Veela almost inevitably have turbulent and difficult home lives, as Veela are rarely maternal once their child reaches puberty. Indeed, many True Veela show little to no connection with their offspring, often seeing them as nothing more than competition and a threat to their standing. Naturally all these hardships tend to produce troubled youngsters, but most Veela-human-crossbreeds are capable of integrating into human society, provided they are frequently in contact with human beings.

However, no matter how fully they adjust, there is one thing that plagues them. One occurrence so horrific that it wakes these unfortunate souls in the middle of the night. It steals their very breath from them should they even imagine it. This nightmare, this torment, this terrible affliction haunts every single creature cursed with a drop of Veela blood in their veins. Of course it is: **The Vernal Equinox**.

This event signifies the beginning of springtime, of mating season, of flowering, of bud-time, of seedtime, of springtime… and so and so forth. Basically, the snow melts. Anyway. Every ten years, for one week following this seemingly benign astronomical event, the Veela of the world are overwhelmed with hormones and pheromones urging the unfortunate beasts to mate. To the unsuspecting human male, they are utterly irresistible.

While this is a time of joy and gaiety for true Veela, for those with diluted blood it is a distressing, confusing and exhausting time where they become a slave to their carnal desires. For those of them who toured with the Rolling Stones earlier in life, this is hardly a new experience, but it is a terrifying one nonetheless. Their nerves are raw, their mood is tempestuous, and they are rarely able to sleep with the libidinous energy of the Veela pulsing through them.

Perhaps most upsettingly of all, any heterosexual post-pubescent males they come in contact with will find them ineluctably ravishing, regardless of the nature of their relationship.

Most of those who are affected by this hellish ordeal lock themselves away from society during this time. They have a stockpile of food and a few good books, and wait for it to be over. (Or, on the off chance that they've been married a while and want to spice things up a bit, one would imagine they'd have quite a good time to themselves. However instances of this behaviour have yet to be confirmed. But, come on, common sense dictates that it would obviously occur from time-to-time, who are we kidding?)

But there are certain pitiable individuals who have commitments. Be they work commitments, family commitments or any other form of commitment, these poor devils genuinely believe that they must go out into society during this week. By doing so they leave themselves susceptible to all manner of horrors.

Our prayers are with these poor, misguided fools.

-

**The Slightly Less Factual Facts:**

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Veela Mating Season starts tomorrow."

"Does it?"

"Yup."

"Why do we care?"

"Because, dummy, there's a Veela at Hogwarts."

"There is? Who?"

"Nobody knows."

"Well if they don't know who it is, how do they know that there is one?"

"Because Hannah Abbot overheard Dumbledore talking to Snape about it this morning. He said it would probably cause chaos. He was asking if there was anything Snape thought he could do to, ah, control the population."

"Why are you winking at me you freak?"

"Because it… oh never mind. Anyway, who do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Grace Branstone in Ravenclaw?"

"Get real! If that girl had any magical powers over men she would've nabbed Roger Davies eons ago."

"Well then I don't know."

"What about that bloke in Slytherin… Malfoy?"

"Oh please, don't be an idiot."

"Well why not? He's got the hair for it."

"Newsflash: Blond hair does not a Veela make."

"But it's all _silvery_ blond. And he's pale."

"Yes. Which indicates a lack of melanin, not Veela-ism. Besides, it can't be him."

"Why not?"

"Because whoever it is would have to be part Veela AND part human. Which means they would be female."

"How'd you figure?"

"Because, you moron, true Veela can't work a bloody wand. If they could work one do you honestly think they'd let themselves be used a _mascots_ for a _Quidditch team_?"

"Well, all right, no."

"Right. So it would have to be part Veela and part human, and everybody knows that when Veela mate with humans the offspring are always female."

"Why?"

"… Well **I** don't know, do I? Maybe the Veela blood destroys the Y chromosome or something. But the point is, Veela women who mate with human males only ever have daughters."

"Well what if it's the father who's a Veela and not the mother who's a Veela?"

"Well that would never happen."

"Why not?"

"Because male Veela are hideously ugly."

"They are?"

"Well… I suppose they must be rather attractive to female Veela. Otherwise they would've died out, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose. Still, who do you think it is then?"

"Dunno. But I guess we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"

-

**The Meeting:**

"Professor McGonagall, may I have a word with you?" Albus asked from the doorway, as Minerva was filing away the pile of homework she'd just marked.

Despite herself, Minerva sighed. "Oh Albus, _must_ you? It's late."

He chuckled. "Regrettably, I must Minerva." he told her.

Minerva looked over to him. He wore a perfectly polite expression and seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be genuinely sorry about having to bother her. This fact placated her slightly. But only slightly. "Oh fine." she snapped, indicating the chair in front of her desk.

Albus took it, apparently unperturbed by her abrupt manner. "Minerva, while I would truly loathe to appear presumptuous, I must confess that I have a slight suspicion you are beginning to feel the effects of the equinox?"

Minerva did not respond for minute. She continued to file away her sixth year class's homework marks. When she finished, she slammed the drawer shut with a ringing bang and threw herself into her chair in a manner highly reminiscent of the teenagers she taught. "It's a nightmare." she muttered. "A complete nightmare. Part of me wishes the damned thing would hurry up and start already, because at least then I wouldn't have to sit here waiting for it. Not to mention the amount of headaches I've given myself worrying about it."

"Alas, we cannot change time, nor can we prevent the inevitable Minerva." Albus told her simply.

Minerva glared at him. "I am perfectly well aware of the fact Albus. That is why this desire was relegated to a 'wish'. Were there any tangible possibility of it actually occurring then believe me, it would have been done already." she said in her more mature and non-teenaged voice. "That does not change the fact that the desire is still there."

"Quite." Albus agreed. "As I understand it, young Miss Delacour of the Beauxbatons delegation will be placed in a similar predicament. She will of course be staying in the Beauxbatons carriage, but I'm quite certain I could arrange for a meeting if you wished to, ah, share your pain?" he offered. His eyes were glinting in a manner which made Minerva all too aware of the fact that she was being teased, but her irritable mood dictated that she rise to the bait all the same.

"Thank you Albus, but I would rather suffer in silence." she told him firmly.

"Very well." the Headmaster conceded with a nod. "If you should change your mind, let me know."

"I'll do that." Minerva said dryly, making it abundantly clear that she would sooner drown herself in the lake than do any such thing. While she may have respected Albus Dumbledore more than anyone else on the planet, but she really wanted nothing more than to strangle him on occasions.

He obviously sensed her frustration as he chuckled lightly to himself. "My dear Minerva, I simply do not understand why you must insist upon turning this into a bad thing."

Minerva glared at him. "Albus, I do not _turn it into_ a bad thing, it simply _is_ a bad thing." she told him matter-of-factly.

"I am quite certain you could put a positive spin on the situation if you so chose." Albus said in an aggravatingly equitable tone.

Minerva tried not to grind her teeth. "Somehow I doubt that." she said darkly.

Dumbledore appeared contemplative for a moment. "If you feel it is too much of an ordeal for you, I am quite certain I could fend off the ravages of age and senility long enough to teach your class for a week." he offered, in an upsettingly gentlemanly fashion.

"I am quite capable of teaching my class." Minerva told him threateningly.

"That was never in question Minerva." Dumbledore responded. "Though I would loathe to make things more uncomfortable for you than they already are."

Minerva remembered who she was speaking to and swiftly realised that Dumbledore was unlikely to be insulting her ability to do her job. She sighed. "As much as I would love to tell you that taking your offer would mean a week of rest and relaxation for me, Dumbledore, it wouldn't. Quite apart from the fact that my symptoms would persist, I am not particularly inclined to run from my problems. Hiding under the bed sheets has never really been something I felt comfortable with."

Albus nodded in acknowledgement of this fact, but did not look any less amused. "No, it never was your forte, was it?"

"No."

"Pity. You could have spent the week with young Miss Delacour. I understand she's an excellent chess player. You could have had a few, what's the term? 'Girly Nights In' together."

Had anyone else said that sentence to her, even in jest, Minerva would have cursed them. Since she knew she couldn't curse Dumbledore if she tried, and wouldn't even if she could, Minerva settled for a heartfelt glare.

"Perhaps not." He conceded, entirely unaffected by her lethal glower. Shifting to a more business-like mode, Dumbledore took his pocket watch out and examined it with mild interest. "According to Professor Sinistra's calculations, the Vernal equinox should occur at precisely twenty-two minutes to one on Sunday morning. Symptoms will persist until the same time the following Sunday, as I'm sure you're aware. This means you have approximately two hours to prepare."

"Yes. Quite." Minerva said, spotting her exit strategy. "Well, I should set about doing that. Preparing, I mean. I shall contact you if I need anything."

"I have no doubt." Dumbledore said pleasantly, getting to his feet and heading towards the door. "Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, Headmaster." Minerva returned, in the least murderous tone she could muster.

Dumbledore disappeared through the door and Minerva waited a full two minutes before she set about preparing.

She started by banging her head off a wall and swearing.

"It's going to be a hell of a long week." she muttered. After all, it always was.


	2. He had it coming, really

**Author's Note:** Er… I should perhaps make a few things clear before we begin. Firstly, just because a male (even a teenage male) doesn't act completely devoted to Minerva, it does not (necessarily) mean that they're gay. It just means that they are either extremely self-possessed or have other things on their mind. Statistically speaking, however, there simply must be a few homosexual males at Hogwarts whether they are aware of this fact or not. With one or two glaring exceptions, I'll leave it up to you to decide who is and isn't so-inclined. Secondly, none of Minerva's would-be love interests will hold her interest. This is to say, that she neither wants nor appreciates romance and is generally just annoyed by all of this, so no matter how compelling some offers may be, she will not be swayed.

* * *

**Sunday-**

As was more or less expected, Minerva woke up early on Sunday. Very early. Four o'clock in the morning, to be precise. She had a throbbing headache, which she chose to attribute to the Equinox despite the fact that she'd smashed her head against a wall the previous night. She was slightly unclear on what specifically had woken her up, but she suspected that it had to do with the fact that her body temperature had risen from the standard ninety-eight-point-six-degrees, and was now hovering at around five thousand.

In a convoluted sort of way, she supposed it was fortunate that she had woken up so early. She would be perfectly able to go downstairs, into the kitchens and get some food to see her through the rest of the weekend. She would also be able to go in past the library and get a few things to see her through till the end of the day. In her frustration at waiting for the blasted Equinox to occur, she had foolishly finished any and all marking that she had to do. She had also planned most of her lessons for the rest of the year. This left her in desperate need of a good book.

Her trip down to the kitchens was more or less uneventful, as House Elves were not affected by a sudden influx of magical hormones. Thankfully. Her trip to the library also passed without incident, as Madam Pince was not yet conscious.

Minerva selected a hefty tome from the history section which looked distinctly as though it had not been read in forty years. This was, coincidentally enough, exactly how long Professor Binns had been teaching History of Magic. This fact said a great deal about the degradation of the subject. The tome she had chosen was the war diary of Bladvak the Bloody from the 1612 Goblin Rebellion, detailing the three-hundred-and-forty-six confrontations, battles and attacks he was involved in during this time. It matched Minerva's mood perfectly. Or at least it would have if it were a bit more violent.

By the time she left the library, a faint green glow was beginning to appear on the horizon. She headed directly for her chambers and, with a gory, blood-soaked book and meals being delivered directly to her private chambers, Minerva assumed that she would be left alone for the remainder of the day. Usually the only person brave enough to interrupt her in her private chambers was the Headmaster himself, so she didn't expect anyone else to pester her. This disinclination to pester Minerva was a tendency she actively encouraged in students and staff members alike.

However there was one group which she'd never bothered to terrorise. She encountered a member of just such a group as she arrived back at the entrance to her chambers.

"You know, wandering around the school at all hours is discouraged Professor McGonagall. That goes for teachers too." drawled and infuriatingly smug voice from a portrait on Minerva's left. "You could be sending the wrong message to the students." he added.

Minerva turned slightly to glare at Phineas Nigellus Black. He looked quite odd, really. Minerva supposed it was because that picture was usually occupied by a portrait of Queen Maeve. Whatever else could be said for Phineas, he just couldn't pull off the benevolent look. And lilac wasn't his colour either.

"Phineas," Minerva said in the politest tone she could manage with a throbbing headache. "The only possible way for students to be aware of the fact that I am wandering the school, is if they too were wandering the school. If that were the case, one would assume the damage had already been done. Now what do you want?"

"Oh dear, we are feeling irritable, aren't we?" he commented in a condescending, yet oddly malicious, tone.

Minerva took her wand out. "Phineas I have had less than four hours sleep, my skull is about to shatter into a thousand pieces, and I intend to spend the day reading Bladvak the Bloody to unwind. Do you understand?" she said, in the same polite tone she'd used earlier. "Now tell me what you want or I shall set you on fire."

Phineas was smirking. "My dear Professor, I never knew you could be so alluring."

Sparks flew out from Minerva's wand.

Phineas rolled his eyes. "Oh very well. The _Headmaster_ requested that I ask if you had reconsidered his offer last night." His eyes flashed in a manner that was oddly disconcerting, despite the fact that he was two-dimensional. "I'm unclear when precisely this meeting occurred last night, so I'm also unclear as to the nature of this offer." he said suggestively.

Minerva glared again. "Tell the Headmaster that I politely decline." she said, waving her wand at the entrance to her personal chambers.

"I wouldn't be so quick to refuse him if I were you." Phineas said contemplatively behind her. "After all, you know what they say about men with long beards-"

Minerva slammed the door shut before he could continue.

-

It was nearly four o'clock that afternoon before Minerva was bothered again.

In an odd sort of way, she'd actually been enjoying herself. After all, it wasn't very often she got to sit around in her private chambers reading a book for pleasure. She was able to lounge around without worrying that she should be out patrolling the corridors or marking homework, like she normally did on weekends. Her headache had even begun to fade slightly, though her body temperature was still causing her all manner of discomfort. She had the windows flung open, in hope that the weather would oblige her and drop below freezing. March in the Scottish highlands was not known for its temperance, after all. But whether the weather was being disagreeable or Minerva was simply refusing to cool down, she was no more comfortable with the windows open. She briefly debated changing into cotton trousers and a camisole, but decided against the idea. She had a reputation for pity's sake.

At quarter to four, however, her relaxation was interrupted by orotund ringing.

Minerva, who had been enjoying a fairly in depth description of Amadeus Alfrick's disembowelment, looked up sharply. It was her office bell. Students rang it when they wished to speak with her in her office. While it wasn't the first time Minerva considered removing the bloody thing, it was the first time in living memory that she considered ignoring it all together.

By the third ring, Minerva got grudgingly to her feet. "This better be good." she muttered, as she cast yet another cooling charm on herself and headed out the door.

She reached her office a few minutes later, and found Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet standing outside waiting for her. Both looked quite irritated. Angelina was pacing the hallway while Alicia leant against the doorframe scowling.

"May I help you?" Minerva asked sharply.

Both girls immediately stood up straight. The irritated look was wiped off their faces as well.

"Hi Professor." Angelina greeted.

Minerva just raised an eyebrow. She wasn't in the mood for teenagers.

"Um, hey Professor McGonagall." Alicia said nervously. "Um… you know that book you recommended for the homework you assigned on Friday?"

"Yes?"

"Well, er, the Library doesn't have any copies left. Madam Pince said you might have some?" Angelina asked.

Minerva sighed. She had to give them background reading, didn't she? "Yes, certainly." she told them, indicating for Alicia to move out of the way.

She unlocked her office door with a simple spell and moved quickly inside. There were one or two protective measures which she was forced to disable before indicating that Alicia and Angelina could come in after her. She went straight for the shelves at the back of the room and began rummaging around testily. She knew those bloody books were there somewhere…

In spite of the fact that no evidence had been found to support the notion, Minerva strongly suspected that the sudden influx of Veela hormones to the human body had a severely detrimental effect on the ability to find things. It was also practically impossible to finish crossword puzzles, but that was neither here nor there.

By the time she laid her hands on the books (Which had been precisely four inches in front of her face for the majority of the time) the sixth year girls had slipped into casual conversation over in the corner. They appeared to be complaining about something or other, and doing so with quite a bit of venom by the looks of things. Minerva was somewhat reluctant to stop them, as it looked like the kind of conversation that would have cheered her up in her current mood. Still, one in Minerva's position could not afford to be a slave to their impulses. "Here are those books. I trust two will suffice?" she said loudly.

Both girls seemed startled, but quickly regained their composure. "Oh. Yeah. Um, yes. Thanks Professor." Alicia said gratefully. "Be didn't mean to bother you at all."

Rather than respond with a blatantly untrue 'no problem', Minerva said "Miss Spinnet, if my students require assistance then it is job to be _bothered_ by them. Now is there anything else I can help you with?"

Alicia shook her head, but Angelina appeared contemplative.

Minerva waited patiently for a whole three seconds. "Miss Johnson?"

Angelina hesitantly began to speak. "Well, I was wondering…" she cleared her throat. "Is it true that there's a Veela at Hogwarts?"

Minerva had once spoken to a pair of muggle-born students. One had used the phrase '_Danger, Will Robinson!_' in an oddly monotone voice. While Minerva didn't have the slightest idea where this phrase came from, it seemed to start repeating itself in her mind. Rather than answer, she asked "What makes you think that there is?"

Angelina shrugged. "It's just a rumour." she said. Adding bitterly, "It's practically all that the boys are talking about."

"I bet it's that French girl." Alicia commented, sounding vaguely annoyed. "The Champion. Whatsername. Flower something, isn't it?"

"_Fleur Delacour_." Angelina said in a hideously bad French accent, with a hair-toss thrown in for good measure. Minerva fought off a chuckle.

"That's the one." Alicia giggled.

"Ooh. Wouldn't it be funny if it were some little first year?" Angelina said. "And all the boys were drooling over her for the next week?"

Angelina and Alicia both started giggling.

Minerva cut them off. "Miss Johnson, I can assure you that would not be funny. In actual fact it would be quite horrific." she told them sternly, glowering at both of them. How they could ever think that inflicting such a thing on a young girl would be funny… Cretins.

Both girls looked confused at her small outburst.

"Sorry Professor." Angelina said contritely, though she obviously had no idea what had got Minerva annoyed. "It's just, well, all the boys are acting like Marilyn Monroe is about to turn up and start flashing them or something. It's ridiculous." she added, with just a hint of hurt behind her words. Minerva therefore assumed that 'all the boys' included one particular boy, and also assumed that this boy was of specific interest to Angelina.

"Well that certainly is ridiculous." Minerva stated in a motherly tone. "And if it makes you feel any better, I can personally assure you that no man in the history of mankind has been affected by Veela hormones and not lived to regret it." she added.

Angelina and Alicia perked up a bit at this.

"Why? What do they do?" Alicia asked.

At the same time, Angelina said "So does this mean there definitely is one here at Hogwarts?"

Minerva considered carefully how much to tell them. "Well-" she said slowly. Before she could get any further, a loud knock sounded on her door. "Come in!" she called. She and her two sixth years glared at the door, annoyed with whoever had interrupted them.

It was Lee Jordan.

He practically skipped into Minerva's office, seemingly oblivious to the death glares being directed at his person. "Hey Professor!" he greeted, without even looking at her. His gaze was focussed none-too-discreetly on Angelina. "I was wondering if you had a copy of-"

Lee cut off abruptly as he turned to face Minerva and froze quite suddenly. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he looked for all the world as though he'd just encountered a Basilisk.

Minerva cringed.

"Professor." he whispered, apparently in awe. "My God, you're… you've… _Professor_." he repeated.

"Yes, Jordan?" she demanded. Minerva was hoping that if she acted as though everything was normal then Lee would remember where he was and who he was talking to. No such luck, apparently.

"You're beautiful!" he exclaimed. "You're gorgeous, how did I not see it before?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Minerva strode back over to the bookcase. She snatched up a textbook and thrust it at Lee. "That's what you came here for, isn't it?"

"Darling, you can't expect me to read!" he told her. "School, books, pen, paper, they don't matter now!" he announced, flinging the book across the room and beaming at Minerva as though she were a goddess.

"Darling?" Alicia repeated with disgust.

Lee moved over to Minerva and, to her horror, dropped down on one knee. "Oh dear lord." she muttered.

"Excuse me." Alicia called. "Didn't you just call her 'darling'? Am I the only one who noticed that?"

Apparently she was. Angelina was obviously too dumbstruck at Lee's behaviour to respond. Since the last time Minerva had seen Lee Jordan down on one knee, he was a fourth year and he had been proposing to Angelina, she sort of understood the girl's befuddlement. Minerva herself was too preoccupied to really notice, and Lee… well, he was pretty far gone, truth be told. Minerva has seen more intelligence and common sense shining out of Gilderoy Lockhart's office wall. This was saying something.

"Come away with me Professor!" he demanded, gesticulating needlessly all the while. "We'll run away together! We'll travel the world! We'll rent a lot of hotel rooms!"

"Oh for the love of…" Minerva muttered. Teenage boys should be banned from making romantic proclamations, she decided. They always messed them up royally.

"Does nobody else care about the darling thing?" Alicia asked helplessly.

Angelina was still staring. While her face was a picture of incredulity, it was slowly slipping into one of amusement. This did not bode well for Minerva, as amusement implied understanding. Understanding implied knowledge, and knowledge in young people was usually followed by the insatiable urge to share said knowledge. If Minerva had not had three sixth years in her office at that particular moment, she would have certainly imprecated. Loudly and repeatedly.

"Uh, Alicia? I think we should, um, escort Lee out." Angelina said in an excessively polite tone. Her eyes were over-bright and Minerva could tell that she was shamelessly gleeful under her helpful façade. That's it, Minerva thought darkly, the sixth years were getting extra homework.

Angelina walked over and grabbed Lee's arms. "Come on, Lee, I think we should go."

Lee, who had been staring adoringly at Minerva, apparently waiting for a response to his oh-so-tempting offer, glared at Angelina. "I'm busy Johnson." he told her impatiently. "Go play with Fred or something." he added, a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"He's been weird ever since she went to the Yule Ball with Fred Weasley." Alicia explained quietly. "Er… well… not this weird. But, y'know." she shrugged.

"I do indeed." Minerva acknowledged. "Though I think Miss Johnson's right. You should perhaps escort him out."

"Professor! You don't understand! I adore you!"

Minerva sighed.

"I worship you!"

It was such wearisome behaviour.

"You are a goddess!" Lee cried, enthusiastically fighting off Angelina.

"Maybe you're right." Alicia admitted, finally moving over to help Angelina.

They both began hauling him towards the exit, a course of action which Lee clearly did not approve of. "Let go of me!" he bellowed. "I won't let you come between us! PROFESSOR I NEED YOU! Gah! GET OFF ME YOU HAGS!"

"_Hags_?" Angelina repeated dangerously. "Did you just call me a _hag_, you hormonal idiot?"

The last thing Minerva heard before she slammed the door shut was Lee Jordan's face receiving a solid right hook. It cheered her up slightly, she had to admit.

-

Minerva had made it back up to her private chambers without encountering anymore teenage males. She had immediately immersed herself in the most horrific passage of Bladvak the Bloody's war diaries she could find, and had attempted to ignore any nagging concerns about the state her reputation would be in by the following day. It didn't work.

It wasn't that she couldn't recover her reputation, as she always could. It was just that when students came to her class expecting her to be, well, Veela-like, they were usually harder to control. This meant that she had to be downright tyrannical to keep them in line, which was an exhausting prospect at the best of times. With the male half of her classes acting like lascivious little twerps, however, it was nothing short of painful. Indeed, the thought alone was enough to bring her headache back full force.

And so, Minerva tried to ignore it. She could just burn down that bridge when she came to it, after all. She pored over her gory, violent book; right up until a House Elf appeared with her dinner. She ate with enthusiasm and had seconds of everything (it _was_ a physically strenuous time) and then went back to her book. She tried to ignore the fact that, despite the dozen cooling charms she had set up around the room and on her clothing, she was still swelteringly hot. She tried to ignore the ever-present pressure on her skull. And she tried to ignore the fact that in one day she had fallen prey to more prurient thoughts than she had had in the previous year.

It was nearly eight o'clock at night before she had to actively acknowledge the fact that she didn't live in an impenetrable bubble.

"Guess what I heard through the grapevine?" Phineas's taunting voice asked slyly from a landscape painting on Minerva's wall.

She gritted her teeth, and looked up at him. "Do tell." she said, attempting to sound bored rather than annoyed.

"I heard, from a Hufflepuff student no-less, that you may very well be part Veela." he announced. "Isn't that interesting?"

Minerva glared. "Which Hufflepuff student?"

"Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not, but I'd like to know all the same."

"Well then I'm sorry to disappoint you. I don't reveal my sources." he said with a sanctimonious sneer. "Anyway, since the Headmaster seems to be suffering from the delusion that I am actually part owl, he sent me to request your presence in his office. The password is Canary Creams."

"What in God's name is a Canary Cream?" Minerva asked, momentarily forgetting to be annoyed.

Phineas shuddered dramatically. A little too dramatically. Minerva could only assume he hadn't had an audience in a while. "As I understand it, those red-haired little trouble-makers of yours came up with them." he told her, sounding utterly revolted. "Now, if we are quite finished, I do have other things to attend to."

Just because she was feeling petty and mean, Minerva said "Yes, of course. You probably have a pressing engagement with Sir Cadogan, don't you? An intellectual discussion on how best to irritate first years, perhaps?"

Phineas sent her a filthy look.

-

Whenever Minerva entered the Headmaster's office, her eyes immediately sought out Fawkes, the Phoenix. She didn't know if it was out of fondness for the bird, curiosity about which stage in his cycle he was currently in or just the fact that he was bright scarlet and her eyes were naturally drawn to him. She just always found herself searching for him, and also found herself faintly disappointed whenever he wasn't there.

The fact that he wasn't in Dumbledore's office on this particular occasion was especially upsetting, as he would have given her something pleasant to focus on that was completely unrelated, and indeed unaware of, anything connecting to the Vernal Equinox. The two people who were in Dumbledore's office were Dumbledore himself and Professor Moody.

Both men were on their feet as she entered and bowed slightly to acknowledge her presence. Moody's magical eye also gave her a once over which was not exactly chaste. She glared at him, causing him to avert his gaze.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Minerva asked, taking the seat that Dumbledore indicated.

"I did." he said. "But before we begin…" Dumbledore conjured up a single red rose and held it out to her.

Minerva narrowed her eyes dangerously, making no move towards the flower.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly and removed the rose before taking a seat. The Git. Moody also sat down next to Minerva. He was a little too close for comfort, but Minerva ignored this fact.

"What can I do for you Professor?" she asked shortly.

Dumbledore had tented his fingers and was watching her appraisingly. "The students are aware of your condition, Minerva." he said.

"So I've heard."

"Do you know how this may have occurred?"

Minerva shifted uncomfortably. The move immediately drew Moody's eye back to her. She scowled at him but he didn't shift his gaze this time. "Lee Jordan came to see me." she admitted, deciding to ignore Moody. "There were witnesses."

"Did the lad try anything improper?" Moody demanded in a low growl. These were the first words he spoke to her.

"_The lad_ would have found himself unable to eat solid food for a month if he had, Professor, I assure you." Minerva informed him coolly.

"Though he was affected?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Minerva laughed tersely. "Yes, one could certainly say that." she said.

Dumbledore nodded. "I take it that this incident has not impacted your decision to go on teaching your classes?" he asked. "In spite of the rumours circulating?"

Minerva bristled. "I am perfectly capable of teaching my classes, Dumbledore." she said firmly. She was actually becoming quite offended at his continued offers. She was one of, if not the, most capable teachers in the entire school. The fact that one of the people she respected most on the planet was so concerned about her abilities was quite insulting really. Did he doubt her so terribly?

As if reading her mind, Dumbledore shook his head. "I have absolute faith in your teaching ability, Minerva." he told her. "I was merely thinking of what is more comfortable for you."

Minerva was somewhat soothed.

Moody, too, was nodding. "Nobody doubts you." he said, patting her knee in a manner that was most unbefitting an ex-Auror. "It's those hellions in your classes that would be causing the bother." His hand was still there. "If there's anything at all Dumbledore or I can do to make things easier for you," His hand had not yet moved. "You just let us know." He was going to lose that hand in a minute, the impudent son of a- "I happened to be quite accomplished at Transfiguration back in the day," Minerva was beginning to have serious complaints with regards to that hand. "So if you want someone to cover a class or two," The hand was leading to a lot of possible scenarios with Minerva, most of them resulting in said hand losing its owner. "Then you just go ahead and ask me."

Minerva smacked the hand off her knee. "Don't you have classes of your own to teach, Professor Moody?" she asked pointedly.

Moody looked a little surprised. "Oh, well, yes. Yes I suppose I do. But not always." he said.

"You teach Defence Against the Dark Arts." Minerva stated. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, like Transfiguration, is required for all students between first and fifth year, and the subjects also have two of the largest N.E.W.T. level intakes in the school. I am curious as to when you would be fitting in these classes of mine. During dinner, perhaps?" she asked scathingly.

Moody didn't respond, but his eye was behaving badly once again.

Annoyed, Minerva got to her feet and pulled her robes more tightly around herself. "Well, if that's all Headmaster." she said. "I think I'll be going."

"Certainly Minerva." Albus acknowledged, with a faintly apologetic manner and a significant glance at Moody. "If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to contact me."

"I won't. Good evening."

Minerva turned sharply on her heel and stalked out. She stood on the descending staircase outside Dumbledore's office and seethed as it transported her downstairs.

Honestly, she expected teenagers to act like love-sick dogs, but fully-grown men should have a bit more decency. And to think, an ex-Auror, abusing a magical object in his position like Moody had that eye. It was outrageous. If he hadn't been an old friend of Dumbledore's she would've cursed him. Well, all right, if he hadn't been an old friend of Dumbledore's and a slightly better duellist than her, then she would've cursed him. It was only slightly better, mind. Why he was even present for that meeting was beyond her. He was far from an expert on the subject. Not to mention the fact that his offer to take her classes had been simply preposterous. Dirty old fool. She'd really expected more from Alastor Moody. He'd certainly never given any indication of such tendencies before.

Then again, that was one of the reasons that the Vernal Equinox (she so loathed the phrase 'mating season') was so damnably aggravating: it caused everyone affected to see every human male in a new, and usually unflattering, light. Minerva sighed. Perhaps she should have become a nun… true, all that peace and good will rubbish would've bored her to death within days, but at least behaviour like this would never be an issue.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Minerva pulled herself out of her reverie. It wasn't that internal diatribes against males weren't fun or anything; it was just that she thought it inadvisable to wander out into the school without a certain level of awareness. Particularly considering her current "condition".

She stepped off the staircase and waiting for the gargoyle to leap aside. As she did so, she became aware of a dull thudding behind her that was approaching quickly. Snapping her head round, she saw that Moody was already three-quarters of the way down the staircase. Cursing herself for not moving quickly down the stairs and sprinting back to her private chambers.

"Come on, come on, come on." she hissed, waiting for the gargoyles to open. They only ever took this long when they knew that it would inconvenience someone. Usually her. "Hurry up!" The gargoyles didn't move and Moody was nearly at the bottom of the stairs.

Surrendering to the inevitable meeting, Minerva slid her hand towards her wand and stared resolutely at the gargoyles, willing the contrary guardians to open.

"Hello there Professor McGonagall." Moody greeted, in the tone of slight surprise that one would use if they encountered an old school friend on Diagon Alley or something. Certainly not in the tone one would use if they'd just raced down a moving staircase to meet with someone. It was ridiculous.

To show her disapproval at such behaviour, Minerva sent him a cold look and then went back to her staring contest with the wall. The wall that was remaining stubbornly solid.

"I thought I'd see you here." Moody continued, apparently feeling no shame whatsoever.

"Well I can't imagine it being a great shock, seeing as how we were both in the same room less than two minutes ago." Minerva commented.

"Come now Professor, I think we both know why you're here." he said, in a confident, self-satisfied tone.

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him. "Enlighten me."

Moody smirked. It was a singularly undesirable expression for a man with such extensive scarring to wear. "I know how nervous you are, Minnie, darling."

"Minnie, darling?" she quoted with disbelief. "_Minnie_?"

"All these strapping, young lads, after your flesh. I figure it's got to be a mite disconcerting. Especially for a woman of your age."

"I beg your pardon?" Minerva growled.

"Reflexes aren't as fast as they used to be. Perhaps the magic's getting a little shaky."

"You're older than me!"

"Am I?" he said condescendingly. "Am I really?"

"Yes!" Minerva cried.

"Oh. Er, right. What I mean to say, is that I understand your nervousness. Time like this, I've got to be figuring you wish you had yourself a husband. A significant other. Someone to help fend off any unwanted attention. Fortunately, I can help you in that area."

Minerva's wand hand was aching to fend off some unwanted attention right there and then. Regrettably, the gargoyles chose that moment to leap aside. Deciding that it wasn't worth getting into, Minerva swept out of the alcove and down the corridor without a backwards glance. He wasn't himself, she repeated firmly. He was acting strangely because of the pheromones, because of the Equinox, because of god-knew-what. He wasn't himself and therefore didn't deserve to be slaughtered.

"I can take care of you Minerva." he called out after her.

Minerva kept walking.

"And in exchange for just a few _payments_ on your part, as well."

Minerva froze.

Moody apparently thought she was considering the offer, as he too stayed quiet. The only sound in the corridor was the faint creaking of a few suits of armour.

Minerva turned to face him.

-

"My goodness! What happened?" an alarmed Madam Pomfrey exclaimed ten minutes later, as Minerva entered the Hospital Wing with Moody's unconscious body floating behind her.

"I suppose he was involved in an altercation of some sort." she suggested without interest. Minerva flicked her wand at the nearest bed, causing Moody's prone form to lie on top of it.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. Then she sighed. "Oh Minerva, you promised this wouldn't happen again!" she hissed.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Poppy." Minerva said serenely.

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "Mm-hmm. Sure. Do you remember thirty years ago? With Professor Slater? That Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"I maintain that he cast that Castration Charm on himself, in an attempt to discredit me." Minerva replied, in a slightly practised manner.

"Yes. Right. Whatever you say Minerva." Madam Pomfrey sighed. "And what about Professor Moody, here? He beat himself up, I take it?"

"Don't be absurd, Poppy. A man can not beat himself into unconsciousness."

"Then who is responsible for his condition?"

"The suits of armour did it." Minerva replied promptly.

Perhaps the sentence itself was bizarre enough to merit a moment's pause, or perhaps it was just the fact that such a sentence had been emitted from the Deputy Headmistress, but Madam Pomfrey stopped tending to Professor Moody and simply stared at Minerva for a moment. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked.

Minerva attempted to look innocent. "The suits of armour. You know how chivalrous they are. Do you recall that time Walden Macnair attempted to force himself on Narcissa Black and they attacked him? Well this is similar."

"Uh-huh. I see. So Professor Moody attempted to assault you?" Madam Pomfrey said sceptically.

"He…" Minerva thought about it for a moment. "Insulted my honour." she said at last.

Madam Pomfrey sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just so I know: Do you expect many other people to be insulting your honour over the next few days? Only I'd like to prepare."

Minerva nodded slowly. "I'll, ah, attempt to avoid any situations where such behaviour is likely to occur." she assured the over-worked nurse as she headed towards the door.

"Well, just make sure you do that, Minerva." Madam Pomfrey called after her. "Because heaven knows, it's only going to worse!"

"Yes." Minerva muttered. "I know."


End file.
